


Right Place, Right Time

by disgustd



Series: the dnf horny police are here, their sirens are wailing [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Bottom GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Crying, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Drunk Texting, Drunken Kissing, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Happy Ending, M/M, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Shameless Smut, Smut, They're Boyfriends Your Honor, Top Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), george is kind of oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:09:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29990937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgustd/pseuds/disgustd
Summary: George had choked. On his drink, that is. He didn’t know how he’d gotten himself into this situation. It was the absolute last thing he’d been expecting while waiting for Dream to show up at the bar.Well, I’m not about to be in the bar anymore, he thinks, as he’s pulled from his seat, led outside by who was probably going to be the best fuck of his life.The stranger he’d picked up brings him to a car, dragging him by the hand to the backseat.“Ladies first,” the man had giggled, yanking open the door.George had laughed back, slurring out a “fuck you,” before miraculously making it inside and sitting down without falling flat on his drunken ass.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: the dnf horny police are here, their sirens are wailing [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133054
Comments: 12
Kudos: 253





	Right Place, Right Time

**Author's Note:**

> hihi i'm sorry it took so long for me to post but i finally cranked this one out, mostly during class. hope you enjoy :)

George had looked up and made eye contact with the stranger on the other side of the bar who was still staring at him, intrigued as ever. He had been eyeing George up for a while now, seemingly too scared to make a move. Though there was no reason to be scared of the small man sitting in the corner of the bar, tapping his fingers on one of the glasses littered around him and breaking eye contact to peek at his phone every so often. If anything, George was completely fine with the other man keeping to himself; it just gave him more time to ogle at him. And he’d been staring back so hard he could’ve sworn he burnt holes through the man’s shirt with his gaze. _Not that that would’ve been a bad thing_ , he smiles to himself.

But what had made him spit his drink out in the first place was what was said after the sly wink from the mysterious stranger… and the text he’d gotten from Dream with all too perfect timing, snapping him out of his trance. It was for the better, though. George should’ve been looking around for Dream instead of eye-fucking the man from across the bar. They had been meticulously planning their meet up and had decided upon this bar. George would fly in and find the place and Dream would drive over, finally seeing each other for the first time.

Another notification dings from his phone. George frowns. He tears his gaze away from the blonde stranger and unlocks his phone, reading the text.

pissbaby: hey george! i know we’re supposed to meet at the bar but i’m in some pretty bad traffic rn

pissbaby: i’m gonna be late, sorry :/ i know how important this is to you bc we’ve never met up before and you flew all the way out here, but i promise i’ll make it up to you ;)

George huffs, typing out a reply.

georgie: yeah it’s fine. no problem, dream!

He raises an eyebrow as the stranger runs a hand through his hair, pulling out his phone as a text alert sounds before clicking it off. _What a coincidence,_ George thinks. _Dream just read my message but he didn’t respond. It would be funny if this guy is Dream. I mean, he has blonde hair too. And he’s pretty tall._ He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. It would just be worse if the man was Dream. George might be a lot of things, but thirsting over his (possibly) best friend wasn’t one of them. _Dream just said he was stuck in traffic. It’s not like he would be… walking towards me right now? Holy shit._

The maybe-Dream had noticed George staring at him and had started walking over. He pulls out a barstool, making himself comfortable before leaning in to George.

“Hey. You waiting for someone? I saw you checking your phone like crazy.”

The man laughs. George can see his face clearly now that they were up close. He had freckles dotted across his cheeks and green eyes that crinkled when he laughed. And did George mention the dirty blonde hair that was long enough to tie back in a manbun? God, he had said one thing to him and George was ready to give himself away to this man. Speaking of which, he clears his throat, patiently waiting for an answer.

“Um, yeah. I- I mean no. I was waiting for someone but they haven’t shown up yet.”

George sighs. Maybe Dream had ditched him? _Oh, stop it. He would never leave me. He’s just… late._

The man speaks up again, tone now slightly suggestive.

“Well I could always take you back to my place and... give you some company.”

And that’s when George spits out the beer. It drips down his chin, probably staining his shirt. But he couldn’t care about that. What was more important was that he had just been propositioned before promptly ruining his chances with the hottest guy he’d ever seen. He had just been asked out and he spat his drink all over his own shirt. _Smart move, George._ He looks up, expecting him to get up, to walk away from the mess that was George. But the stranger… wasn’t completely disgusted by him right now?

The man rolls up his sleeves, motioning for the bartender to pass them something to clean up the mess. He’s handed a napkin and he presses it across George’s shirt, trying but failing to mop up the beer. George helplessly looks down at the man, lifting his hands to help but dropping them back down to the sides. He sucks in a breath. The hands cleaning his shirt were pressing dangerously low on his torso. He couldn’t get hard. Not here. So he pushes the man’s hands off him, stuttering out an apology.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I just wasn’t expecting you to—”

“No, no it’s fine! It’s my fault, I was being too forward. Um, here, let me get you another drink.”

George nods, and he’s handed another beer. He tilts his head back, gulping down the liquid and adding the empty glass to the collection of bottles littering the counter in front of him. He turns to the man and smirks at his dumbfounded expression. He’d always prided himself in his high alcohol tolerance, but he was definitely reaching his limit. He had quite a few drinks while waiting for Dream.

“Wow… I didn’t expect you to be able to drink like that,” the man clears his throat.

“What, d’you think I was a lightweight?” George smiles. He leans forward onto the bar top, feeling tipsy. “Gimme two.” 

He motions to the bartender who slides him two more drinks. George motions towards one, and the stranger slowly picks it up. 

“Let’s drink,” George smiles, hand wobbling as he holds his glass out to the man. “Cheers!”

“How much have you had to drink?” the man asks before taking a sip.

“Oh, not too much,” George giggles. He tips the glass to his mouth. “What about you?”

“Not a lot, maybe one or two beers. I can’t take alcohol very well. I think I’m already feeling a little lightheaded, actually.”

George’s eyes light up at this, leaning in close to the other man’s ear.

“Well I can take alcohol well,” he whispers. “And do you know what else I can take well?” He adds before blowing air into the man’s ear. 

He’s met with a small laugh before being pushed off. 

“Woah, slow down there. I don’t even know your name.” The man grins. “Not that it matters that much, but I’d just like to kn—”

“Nooo, tell me yours first!” The Brit cuts him off with a tipsy giggle.

The man sighs, relenting. “Okay. I’m Clay. Nice to meet you.”

 _Clay._ That name sounded familiar to George, but in his drunken state, he couldn’t quite place it. It sounded like someone he’d heard of—the name gave him a sense of comfort. But he didn’t care about that right now. He couldn’t. Dream hadn’t shown up yet and George had been waiting for… was it an hour? Thirty minutes? It didn’t matter how long he had been waiting. All George wanted to do was go home with Clay.

“What’s your name?” Clay interjects. “Just tell me whenever you’re done staring.”

George pulls his eyes up from Clay’s body, giving him a grin. 

“But you just said it doesn’t matter~” George drags out the last word. “Fine. My name is Joe.” Clay raises an eyebrow. He opens his mouth but is immediately silenced by a tipsy George shouting “Joe mama!” before collapsing in on himself with laughter.

Clay sighs.

“Hey, why don’t you come home with me? We could clean you up and… get rid of that stained shirt.” He muses, looking to George for a reaction. George just stares back. He wasn’t against the idea, he was just processing what was just said. He was getting a little too drunk for decision making. 

“Uh… sure. We can get back at my friend for leaving me here. He’s gonna be so mad when I tell him that I fucked the hottest guy in the bar tomorrow.” He snickers at the blush lighting Clay’s cheeks up. “Lemme make an excuse. I’ll tell ‘em the truth later.” He slurs.

georgie: hey dreeam,, i frogot my luggaje at hte airport.

georgie: going tro pick it up beacause ur going to be late anwyas

It was painfully obvious that he was drunk, but he couldn’t care less; an excuse was an excuse. Clay grabs his hand, pulling him off his seat. They stumble out of the bar together, laughing and leaning on each other. Clay’s phone dings, and he pulls it out.

“I’m just gonna call an Uber,” he explains. But his phone vibrates again and he frowns, noticeably scrolling through his texts before opening the Uber app. “It’ll be here in a few.” He adds before shutting his phone off.

George gives him a half-lidded smile before looking back down to his phone, looking over his messages with Dream.

_Read 10:56 pm._

He paid it no mind.

The Uber arrives, startling the two men with a honk. They walk over to the backseat, Clay signaling for George to stand back.

“Ladies first,” he giggles, yanking open the door.

George laughs back, slurring out a “fuck you,” before stumbling inside and falling onto the seat. He leans his head on Clay’s shoulder as the taller man puts their seatbelts on.

The car takes off, navigating the dark streets. It doesn’t take long for George to get handsy, trailing a hand up Clay’s thigh. He’s met with a look, one that clearly says “don’t test me.” But he ignores the warning, sliding the hand up further to his crotch and palming it. Clay stifles a groan, praising whatever gods were out there that there was no way the driver could see them in the dark. Or through the partition separating them. 

“Oh come on now,” he murmurs. “So needy. You can’t wait until we get to my place?”

“Mmm,” was the hushed response. “Why can’t I just help you now?”

George continues his previous actions, but he had brought his other hand over to pull down Clay’s zipper. Pants unzipped, George snakes his hand down the front of his boxers, thumbing at the waistband before dipping his hand underneath.

Clay shivers as he feels George brush against his tip, softly tracing a vein with a fingernail. It takes every ounce of his self-control for him to not buck his hips and pull the hand out of his pants. George looks up, hurt.

“We’re a few blocks away from my place, and I’d rather wait the two minutes than get arrested for public indecency.” He whispers.

George frowns but pulls his hands to his lap. Luckily for him, though, the car rounds a last corner and stops in front of a driveway. Clay opens the door, motioning for George to follow. Wrapping a hand tightly around the smaller man’s waist, Clay smiles at the driver. As the car drives back down the street, George tilts his head up, mouthing at Clay’s neck. The man smiles, leaning down into the touch.

“You just can’t wait, can you? What a needy bitch for someone you’ve only just met.”

George’s shiver at this doesn’t go unnoticed. Clay nearly drags him to the front door, a devilish grin clouding his face.

“Never would have taken you for a degrading type of guy,” he whispers, unlocking the door. George hums, mouth still attached to his neck.

“And who said I liked it?”

Clay kicks the door shut. George gasps, mouth yanked from its resting place on Clay’s neck. Before he can protest, a hand snakes around his throat, pushing his body against the wall. He groans as Clay grabs his wrists with his other hand and pins them above his head. _Holy shit. Did he just pin both my hands with one of his? Wow, they’re huge._ He pushes against them in an attempt to break free, but to no avail, nearly moaning as he feels the grip around him tighten. _And they’re really fucking strong._

Clay smiles, feeling the other man’s Adam's apple nervously bobbing against his palm. He presses himself forward, crotch flush against George’s, effectively flattening him against the wall with no chance to escape. He noses at the smaller man’s neck, hot breath making George shudder beneath him.

“So you don’t like this? You don’t like being pinned against the wall for me? For someone you met an hour ago?”

George nods, mouth slightly parted and eyes blown wide. Clay loosens his grip on his neck, now resting his hand lightly around it.

“Use your words.”

“I- I like it,” George gasps, “I like it when you pin me against the wall, when you take control of me.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Clay dips down, removing his hand from George’s neck to roughly pull his chin up. George leans up, chasing the taller man’s lips, who pulls back with a smirk.

“I knew you were needy.” He murmurs, before clashing their lips together. 

It’s a desperate kiss, their teeth clacking and tongues colliding. But both men were too drunk to care. George moans, letting Clay slip his tongue into his mouth right off the bat. He pushes against the hand pinning his arms to the wall before breaking the kiss.

“Can- can I use my hands? Wanna be able to touch yo-”

Clay swallows his words by capturing his mouth in another kiss but releases his arms. Pale hands immediately fly around his face, one tangling in his hair and the other resting on his cheek. They stay like that for a few minutes, George tightening his grip in Clay’s hair whenever he bucks his hips forward and Clay groaning into the kiss whenever he feels a hand pull at his hair. 

Clay taps George’s ass and wraps his hand around his hips, signaling for him to jump. George does as he’s asked, wrapping his legs around his waist. They stumble down the hallway, bumping into the walls a few times, but never breaking their kiss. Clay finally makes it to his bedroom and pushes the door open with his foot, throwing George on the bed.

He moves onto the bed, caging the man between his arms. Giving him one last kiss, he trails a hand down his chest before reaching the hem of his shirt. He abruptly rips George’s shirt off before doing the same to his pants, discarding them in some corner in his room. The change of pace fits with the desperate and rushed mood.

Now in his boxers, George pulls at Clay’s shirt.

“Take yours off too… it’s not fair,” he whines, pouting, “I wanna touch you, wanna be able to feel you.”

Clay complies, laying a quick kiss on George’s lips before pulling off his own tee and stepping out of his pants. He moves back over George, tracing a finger over the waistband of his boxers before pulling them down, hard cock bouncing against his stomach with a wet slap. He moves forward and pushes one of George’s legs to the side, causing him to immediately spread them. They’re just wide enough apart for Clay to slot himself in between them and he does, but not before rummaging through George’s nightstand. He pulls out a bottle of lube from the top drawer with an “aha!” and uncaps it with a click.

Clay holds his hands over George’s stomach, dripping the lube over his fingers ever so slowly. He was going to put on a show, and George was going to wait until it was done. George tenses as he feels the cold liquid spill over Clay’s fingers and onto his warm skin. Clay thankfully finishes pouring it and caps the bottle, placing it back on the stand. He rubs his fingers together, swiping two of them across George’s skin to pick up the spilled remnants. A needy moan from George tells him to speed up so he obeys, circling a finger at his hole. 

Clay slowly pushes a finger in, pausing at the first knuckle for a moment. He looks up, making sure George wasn’t in pain, before pushing his finger all the way in and curling it. George moans, and Clay grins. He inserts a second finger, scissoring the squirming man beneath him.

“Ah- fuck- more! Give me more!” George nearly shouts, grinding back on Clay.

He listens, giving a few more pumps before pushing a third finger in. 

When he decides George is prepped enough, Clay decides to tease him a little. He slows his thrusts, curling his fingers every now and then while brushing his lips up and down George’s neck.

“Clay… please…” George whines, fisting his sheets in desperation. “Hurry up, just put your dick in me!”

“Shh. Calm down.” Was the muttered response.

Clay traces his free hand down George’s chest, pausing to twist and pinch at his nipples, eliciting a small whimper from the man beneath him. Smirking, he moves his fingers even faster and continues abusing George’s chest, loving each and every sound falling from his lips. He buries his nose into the smaller man’s neck, sucking bruises into the flesh while murmuring into his skin.

“So good for me. You sound so pretty, baby.”

Eyes roll back in the smaller man’s head as he lets out a helpless whimper, and Clay raises an eyebrow in surprise, clearing his mind just enough to pull back from his neck.

“Praise? I thought you were a degrading type of guy.” He chuckles, an idea forming in his hazy head. “I bet you like both. You like it when I tell you how good you are, how good you’re being for me?” He tilts his head down, ghosting his lips over George’s. 

George frantically nods as his eyes widen, chasing the lips above him. Blown out pupils become prominent as he stutters out a “Y- yeah…”

Clay smiles at his reaction. He pulls away from him, expression darkening with a sneer. He grabs George’s cheeks, tilting his chin up slightly, forcing him to look Clay in the eye. He swears he gets even harder when he feels George’s throat contract, gulping under him.

“Of course. What a little whore. All I had to do was talk to you, and you’re already so fucking hard. I can’t wait to see how you’ll act when you’re begging for me to fill you with my cock.” 

Clay pulls his fingers out from George’s hole and wraps them around his dick to prove his point, causing him to buck his hips up in desperation. He lets George pleasure himself for a minute, enjoying the view. The smaller man moans, thrusting shallowly into Clay’s hand, loving the friction. He starts to speed up, Clay’s large hand rubbing against him deliciously. He could cum from this, just this, he thinks as his mouth opens into an O-shape. But there was something off about this. Clay was letting him get off too easily. And he was right. Just as his stomach starts to tighten, the hand is removed and George whines in indignation.

“Did you think I’d let you cum already?” Clay laughs, a menacing sound that sends tingles down George’s spine, pooling into his stomach. “Oh, come on now. We’ve only just started. I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

“Then please,” George licks his lips, voice already raspy. “Fuck me.”

“All you had to do was ask.” Clay grins.

He lines himself up with George’s hole, eyebrows knitting together and mouth falling open as he slowly slides himself in. Lifting one of his knees onto his shoulder, he starts moving. The pace was torturous, but Clay didn’t want to hurt the other man.

“Fuck, you feel so good around me. So tight, like you were made for my cock.”

George moans, rolling his hips back. Clay had been teasing him for too long, and right now he really just needed a good fuck.

“Please… harder, Clay. I’m not going to break, y’know.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to hurt you.”

George reaches up, grabbing one of Clay’s biceps and pulls him down so their noses touch. He winces as he nearly gets bent in half, muscles in his legs searing. But he didn’t mind, he realizes as he feels himself drip precum onto his stomach. He likes the pain.

“I don’t want to be able to walk tomorrow,” George murmurs into the other man’s mouth, body still on fire from the sudden stretch, “and I’m hoping you’re going to do something about that.”

Clay’s eyes are wide open, pupils nearly the size of saucers. He was still pumping in and out of the smaller man slowly, scared of breaking his doll-like figure. But he could feel his self-control slowly slipping away, hips stuttering with every slow thrust, begging to go faster and ruin the poor man beneath him. One side of him wanted to destroy George, to use him and break him, to make him cry and scream his name. The other half wanted him to take it slow, to whisper sweet praises in the brunette’s ear while slowly taking him apart, bit by bit. But George was impatiently looking up at him, waiting for a response. So Clay dismisses the latter side of himself.

He hoists George’s other leg over his shoulder and pounds into him at a relentless pace, letting out a small groan as the sounds of skin slapping encase the room. Clay shifts, changing the angle of his thrusts, hoping to find that one spot that would drive George crazy. And after a few more thrusts, George screams, arching his back. He crosses his legs behind Clay’s back and squeezes them, bringing the two men impossibly close together.

“Fucking- shit, right there, Clay, ah-”

George’s hands scramble for the sheets, a pillow, anything for him to grab. He finally lands them on the back of Clay’s neck, digging his nails into the flesh. That would definitely leave a mark, but that was for future him to worry about. Clay hisses at the pain, thrusting especially hard into George in retaliation. But that only eggs the other man on, who starts babbling incoherently, hands now running up and down his torso. George nearly cries, moans cut off with every thrust from Clay.

“Ah- you’re so good, feel so good in me.” George moans, eyes rolling back in his head. “T- touch… can I touch myself?”

Clay growls— _fucking growls_ —and wraps a hand around his throat, squeezing the sides lightly.

“Shut it, slut. You wanted this, so you’re going to lie here and take what I give you. And you’re going to cum from my dick alone.” When George whimpers, he adds, “I know you can do it, my little cockslut.”

George pulls his hands from the body above him, reaching down to touch himself anyway. It wasn’t like Clay would… pin his hands above his head. George lets out an annoyed grumble that gets cut off as the hand around his throat presses against his windpipe. Clay grabs his wrists and roughly shoves them into the mattress above his head, holding them there with his other hand.

Tears are pulled from George’s eyes with every thrust from Clay, whines wrenched from the back of his throat.

“Fuck- I’m close!”

“Already? That’s all it took for your whorish self, my dick and my hand around your throat. How pathetic.”

Clay grins, a terrifying sight, and speeds up, if possible. Tears are trickling down George’s face now, and he strains against the hand pinning his arms to the bed as he feels his stomach tighten. Just a touch, any touch, would be enough for him at this point, enough for his cock slapping against his stomach, begging for release. And his wish is granted as Clay removes his hand from his throat and reaches down to jerk him off, setting a brutal pace.

George arches his back, pushing his hips into Clay’s hand.

“‘M gonna cum! Please, can I?”

Clay acknowledges him with a grunt, a non-verbal confirmation. George lets himself go, eyes rolling back in his head and vision turning white. He feels liquid spill across his stomach, painting himself and Clay with white. George heaves, catching his breath as his limp body is racked with waves of pleasure. But Clay wasn’t stopping.

_He wasn’t stopping._

George’s eyes go wide as Clay continues hammering into him, snapping their hips together.

“Wait- fuck- too much! Clay, it’s too much,” he chokes out, already feeling himself become hard again. “Pleeeeease! Slow down!”

Clay doesn’t look up but listens nevertheless. He slowly rolls his hips against George, a nice (or worse) change of pace for the man’s abused thighs. George keens, wriggling against Clay each time he rubs against his prostate.

“Just a little longer… ‘m getting close.”

George hums and, having regained some of his strength, grinds back against the taller man. His mouth drops open and his eyebrows knit together, face contorted in pleasure. He clenches around Clay, causing him to let out a low moan.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum soon,” Clay murmurs, “in or out, baby?”

George blinks in shock at the sudden pet name but soon regains his senses. 

“In,” he rasps, “please cum in me.”

He pulls his legs inwards, locking their two bodies together. George clenches around Clay again, the taller man letting out a low string of curses before falling forward, letting go of George’s wrists and caging him between his arms. He opens his mouth, presumably to speak, but instead lets out a moan as he cums in George painting his insides white. The smaller man leans up, catching Clay’s open mouth in a kiss.

The two men lie there for some time, catching their breath. Clay eventually sits up, turning to a half-asleep George.

“Okay, sleepyhead. We gotta get you cleaned up. C’mon, let’s get you a towel from the bathroom.”

“No, just wanna sleep.” George mutters and closes his eyes again, brushing him off.

Clay ignores him and turns on his side, facing George.

“Get up,” he coos, “you’re gonna hate me if you have dried cum up your ass tomorrow.”

George huffs, annoyed. “Clay, just sleep with me.” He throws an arm around the other man.

“We just did,” was the snarky response. “Come to think of it,” Clay muses, “I don’t even know your name. Mind telling me now?”

The only response he gets is a soft snore.

George yawns, sitting up and rubbing a hand over his face, shielding it from the sunlight outside. He looks around, confused. _This… this is Dream’s house?_ He groans and scrunches his eyes shut, sharp pain splitting through his head. _Holy shit… this is Clay’s house. So that’s why my head hurts. And... oh. That's what I did last night._

George looks around, but the bed was empty aside from him. He stands up, knees wobbling, and walks around, searching for the bathroom. Clay’s shuffling around in another room, the clinking of pots and pans signaling that he’s in the kitchen. _I wonder if he remembers last night,_ George frowns. _If I do, he probably does. But how do I get out? Do I just… saunter into his kitchen and ask him how he's doing?_

He pokes his head through a nearby door and walks in, having found the bathroom. Splashing water over his face, he shivers, thinking of last night’s events. What would Dream think? What was he supposed to say to him? ‘Oh, sorry, I was just getting dicked down by a stranger instead of hanging out with you.’ George sighs.

He dries his face and runs a hand through his hair, walking back to the bedroom. Searching through the pile of discarded clothes on the floor, he pulls out his pants and rummages through the pockets. His phone falls out and he grabs it, dread pooling in his stomach as he reads his notifications.

_3 missed calls from pissbaby_

_2 unread messages from pissbaby_

George groans and unlocks his phone, mentally preparing to deal with the anxious Dream waiting for him.

pissbaby: george, did you get your luggage? you okay?

pissbaby: i’m so sorry, i should’ve left earlier to pick you up. tell me where you are, and i’ll come get you.

georgie: hey dream, i’m okay, no need to worry :)

georgie: i crashed at a motel and i got my luggage yesterday, i just fell asleep bc it was late

George raises an eyebrow as Dream immediately comes online, already typing out a response. _That was fast._

pissbaby: glad to hear you’re ok!! want me to pick you up?

georgie: no, it’s fine, i can walk to ur place or get a cab if you’re far away. i need the exercise anyway. 

There was no way George was going to give Dream Clay’s address. He didn’t need him asking why he lied about his location or why he was staying with another guy. And he didn’t need Clay asking who Dream was. Or worse—thinking they were together and that George was a cheater. Which he wasn't; he’d never cheat. And especially not on a man like Clay.

_Clay._

That name. George gasps, eyes going wide. Dream’s name was Clay, that’s why it had sounded so familiar last night. But in his drunken haze, he hadn’t recognized it. He rarely used his real name, though. It seemed unnatural after he had called him Dream for so long, so he had just stuck to his streamer name. But there was no way that this Clay was Dream, right? It would have to be an insanely unlucky series of events to lead George to fucking his best friend. So he decides to believe that there just so happened to be two Floridians named Clay that were both above 6 feet tall with blonde hair that were supposed to be in that exact bar yesterday. 

His attention shifts back down to his phone when it buzzes again. Dream had sent him his address. George sighs in relief, having pulled off his lie without Dream noticing. Now he just had to get past Clay. Although he’d like to stay and… do something again with him sometime. But Dream was the priority here.

George clicks on the address, opening it in the maps app. He nearly drops his phone, queasiness overtaking him. _No._ he falls back onto the bed. _There’s no way._ He looks at his phone again, making sure he wasn’t hallucinating. He wasn’t. The little blue arrow representing him was dancing around the red destination pin.

 _In 10 feet, make a right,_ the robotic navigator monotoned.

Yeah. He was at Dream’s house. At _Clay’s_ house.

Just to make sure, he opens his messages and clicks on Dream’s contact.

georgie: u sure that’s the right address?

pissbaby: yeah? i sure hope it is, otherwise i don’t know where i’ve been living my entire life

georgie: call me.

George clicks on the call button, tapping his foot impatiently. A part of him doubts what he had seen, hoping it was a typo. But another part of him knew it wasn’t. His heart drops when he hears Clay’s phone ring from the other room, and the man’s voice as he speaks, sound ringing clear through the walls and through the speakers.

“Hello?”

George doesn’t answer. Instead, he slowly walks out of the room and creeps down the hall, following the voice. But that would explain why he didn't recognize Clay's voice. It was much deeper in person.

“George? Are you there?”

He can hear Dream—Clay—clearly from the room in front of him now, delayed voice coming through the speakers a second later. He pushes the door open and walks into the kitchen, clearing his throat.

“Hey, Dream.”

He winces as he hears himself through Clay’s phone. The man looks like he’d seen a ghost, slowly bringing his finger to hang up the call. He drops his phone on the counter and stares at the Brit, eyes about to pop out of his head.

“George?”

George gives a sheepish grin and walks over to Clay, sitting down on one of the kitchen stools.

“Long time no see,” he remarks, rather awkwardly.

Clay blinks at him a few times, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

“Wait… so you- I- we- that was you last night?”

George looks down at his feet. “Yep.”

“Oh.”

The two men stand (or sit) in silence, looking everywhere but each other’s eyes. George finally speaks up, a small wave of confidence washing over him.

“Well if it makes you feel better, that was the best dick I’ve ever had.”

Clay looks him up and down, not sure if he was kidding. The fidgeting and blush coating George’s cheeks assured him that he was not.

“Oh… well you were the best fuck I’ve ever had.”

Clay’s eyes go wide, realizing what he’d just said. He holds his hands out in front of him as George looks on, hurt. And just like that, the wave of confidence that had washed over George receded, like low tide at a beach.

“No, no that's not what I meant!” He stammered. “I don’t think of you as a quick fuck or anything like that, you’re my best friend. And I’d actually like to do it again, so you’re not like a one night stand to me.”

Fuck, he had just made it worse, hadn’t he.

George blinks. “So… you want to… do this again?”

Or not.

“Um, yeah, but I didn’t know it was you. I mean, you never even told me your name for god’s sake.” Clay lets out a nervous chuckle. “We both didn’t know who the other person was. I’m sure that if you knew it was me you would’ve just brushed me off in the bar.”

“Clay—Dream—wait. What if… what if I would still want it? Even if it was you?”

Clay sits down on the stool next to George.

“So you would want to do this again? I mean, even though you know who I am now?”

“Y- yeah.”

Clay smiles at the flustered man next to him.

“George?”

“Hm?”

“Would you like to be… um… more than friends?”

George looks up, surprised. Nevertheless, he leans in, eyes flickering between two of Clay’s own. He waits for the man to continue.

“I mean,” Clay continues, “we’ve known each other for so long, and we kinda fucked last night. So—”

“Yes.” George blurts out.

Now Clay is the silent one, looking to George to continue.

“Was that not the answer you were looking for? I want to be your boyfriend.” George deadpans with a smile.

“Well that was definitely the answer I was looking for. Not the one I was expecting, though.”

George lightly punches him in the shoulder before wrapping his arm around the taller man. He leans his head on Clay, who stiffens before melting into the touch.

“You weren’t expecting it? You had your dick fully stuck in me last night and you thought I didn’t like you, at least a little bit?”

Clay rolls his eyes. “So you’re my boyfriend now?”

“If you want me to be.”

Clay hums in agreement, snaking his arm around George’s waist. The two men sit in the kitchen, wrapped in each other’s arms in silence, simply basking in the other’s presence. 

George speaks up after a while, sheepishly murmuring into Clay’s shoulder.

“Hey, Clay?”

The taller man tilts his head, listening.

“I, uh… didn’t get around to picking up my luggage yesterday. I just came home with you.”

George’s boyfriend groans, slumping back onto the counter.

“We’ll get it later. Let’s just get some breakfast first.

“Oh yeah, sure! I’m really thirsty by the way, can you get me a drink?” George asks. He adds a “Thanks, baby” when Clay returns with two cups of water, causing the younger to blush.

The two men sit by the counter with their drinks, taking sips from their cups every so often and talking about their next manhunt video. They burst out into laughter over a joke from Clay and the couple starts their day the same way the previous one ended: together at a counter with drinks.

George smiles at his boyfriend as he excitedly rambles about a new video idea. _Well, he wasn’t lying when he said he’d make it up to me._

**Author's Note:**

> i'd like to thank all of you, but especially sippincl2, for the incredibly nice comments on my other fics!! if you enjoyed it, consider leaving a comment. i try to respond to them all and they really do make my day!


End file.
